Episode 6

He stepped outside, noticing the vastness of the mansion. He encountered scores of maids and out front, numerous guards. It didn't trouble him much, his only desire was to wrap up his mission quickly as he had a mere five months to acquire all that he had been tasked with.

One of the guards opened a door, and they descended to a basement filled with even more people, uncovering aspects he hadn't anticipated. He observed many individuals stationed before screens, monitoring events in every section, room, and area of the mansion. Speaking through microphones, they operated thermal cameras, night vision, and more. As he moved on, he was displeased, knowing this would only complicate matters further.

The information they had on the site was scarce, and on the myriad of screens on display, every corner was visible, including where tests were performed on all the selectees.

He spotted the father pacing through various sectors and Bley emerging from his room, then noticed that, while no camera covered the interior of Omega's room, one was directed at the door to monitor entries and exits.

"This way," one of the guys instructed, "you need to provide all your details. It's best you don't lie, because we'll know."

Silent, he continued walking towards some women. They didn't look the least bit frail.

"The boss didn't mention we were expecting someone else for the trials," one spoke grudgingly.

"It's a special and exceptional case for the boss."

Hearing this, she simply nodded.

"Alright, if it's special to him, there's nothing to be done. Well then, newcomer, give me your details so I can check them against the computer data."

The redhead gave her a brief, indifferent glance.

"Maverick Mantiel."

The woman nodded and typed in the name, waiting for the result. Once it appeared, she spent some time reading.

"Any family?" she asked, hoping his answer matched the computer's information.

"No, I have no one. Grew up in an orphanage and took the Mantiel surname from no one in particular."

She nodded, as that matched the information she had. Nothing about siblings, parents, nothing. His records showed he was abandoned at an orphanage at one month old and stayed until eighteen. He had been in the military, seen active service, and more.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-one," he replied, tired of the questioning.

"Occupation?"

"I'm a security guard at a downtown supermarket. Been there three years."

She scrutinized him, but it wasn't as though she could tell he was lying, with his entire life a fabrication. His face was stern, exhibiting not a hint of fear, nervousness, or any tell that could betray his lies. No amount of staring or lens for detailed examination would matter.

Her gaze returned to the computer, which laid everything bare.

No errors or system faults emerged because everything was crafted to perfection, without a loose end in sight.

Maverick had nobody. Self-reliant, he had never leaned on family support. She even felt a twinge of pity, contemplating a young child's growth without kin.

She typed further and looked up again. Noticing an abundance of tattoos for someone with a military background, she finally deduced they must have come after his service. His robust frame indicated a regular gym routine or a daily regimen to stay in peak physical condition.

"How did you become a security guard?" she queried, eyeing him.

He didn't respond immediately.

"Took a two-year course."

She didn't inquire about the school, assuming it was the orphanage where he had grown up. She relayed a few more instructions, which he followed attentively before receiving his uniform and being escorted to his new room.

Once inside, he took in the modest space compromised of a bed, bathroom, and television. With no windows, the subterranean chamber did little to please him, as any emergency would mean being buried under rubble.

Then he simply reached for his phone and made a call. As the other party picked up, he announced:

"I'm in."

A brief chuckle was heard.

"Good work, Maverick. Proceed as planned, they've taken the bait. I want that safe's code and eliminate anyone in your way. I don't want survivors when you're done—not the father, and certainly not his Omega son."

"Understood."

"Don't let anyone else get close. We're not the only ones after that safe, so start taking out the opposition whenever they cross you."

"No worries, I'll keep a close watch. That safe will be ours."

He heard another chuckle.

"I have no doubt. You're one of my most loyal men. You've achieved much with us in short order, so this should be a breeze for you. Earn that kid's trust and show a little charm. He's weak and will fall quickly."

"Got it."

He hung up and sat on the bed. He did nothing at all, just stared at the ground, almost expecting something to emerge and ease the process.

He swallowed hard and lied down, hopeful for a good start the next day free of issues. He hadn't anticipated simplicity, nor had he foreseen complications. But since his chance encounter in the supermarket, every move had been strategic. He expected delays in contact, yet everything progressed faster than he imagined.

Settling in, he watched the ceiling for countless minutes until his eyes closed.

Weary, he soon drifted into a deep slumber. Falling asleep was effortless, but nightmares began plaguing him. Awake, he could control his thoughts, emotions, actions; asleep, repressed memories, fears, traumas, and Alay's lived horrors resurfaced.

Gunshots…

Weeping…

Death…

Blood…

Ilay…

His mother…

Betrayal…

A shout broke his sleep, and he bolted upright. He scanned the room, disoriented.

"Where am I?" Alay murmured, lost in confusion.

For dual personality disorder or dissociative identity disorder often springs from trauma; it serves to compartmentalize painful memories. Symptoms ranged from amnesia to distinct alternate identities, from Alay to Maverick, each with unique stories, gestures, voices, and more.

Personality switches could last minutes, hours, or years.

For him, Maverick emerged by day, shielding him from painful recollections, but at night Alay returned with sleep.

Unaware of circumstances, he rose, inspecting his increasingly tattooed arms. Desperately seeking clues about his surroundings, he found nothing. As thoughts bombarded him, a headache instantly worsened, weakening his struggle against the agony. He couldn't relive his mother's death, his twin's words, or fathom the hatred his family must harbor.

Hands clutching his head, he shook it repeatedly.

"I can't... I can't bear this pain..."

He collapsed to his knees, utterly defeated. Feeling a drift from his own being, emotions fading, another's presence encroaching, as though being possessed anew.

Eyes clenched tightly, he…

Maverick stood, surveying his surroundings with calm detachment, not returning to bed, simply leaning against the wall awaiting the alarm, while Alay remained shrouded in darkness.

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